Behind The Mask
by Titanium White
Summary: Bill Compton escapes poverty by joining the navy, where he meets Eric North, who unknowingly tears apart all that Bill thought he knew about himself; trapping him in an internal battle between his heart and his guilt-ridden mind.
1. Genesis

_"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed"- Carl Jung_

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><p>Is it physically possible to hang yourself with your own shoelaces? If this idiot blabs for five more I'll be forced to look into it.<p>

It's not like he was the first person to tell us the whole, "You are serving your country. Perhaps not on the front line, but still you must... yadda, yadda, yadda." Was it too late to pull out? How would I explain it to Sookie? "Sorry honey, but I'd rather be unemployed again."

I was with the other new recruits, in our first meeting with the big boss dude. It was our induction day on the U.S.S Carmilla. I'd be away at sea for 5 months, pretty lame seeing I was starting to have doubts.

The meeting dragged on forever. Even worse was that we had to stand all the way through it. By the end of it my legs were screaming for mercy. When that was done we had dinner in the mess hall, surprisingly it wasn't too bad, better than Sookie's cooking any day, not that I'd admit that to her face.

After the meal we were being shown to our quarters onboard; two by two our number fell as pairs were led off into their rooms, until I was left by myself.

"Compton is it?" the guy who'd taken us round asked; he's a Senior Chief Petty Officer.

I'd put him at about 32. Medium build, 5"6, bony shoulders and an olive tan that accumulated from working outdoors.

"That's me sir." I replied.

"Sir is too official; call me Sam, unless there are superiors around." That was a pleasant first, a superior who didn't want me to call them sir. If there was one thing I hated about this whole military thing, it was that!

"Where's my room?" I asked.

"There are an odd number of new recruits; you were going to have a room to yourself." Yes! This was the only good news I'd had today. "But one of our other troops transferred, so you'll be bunking with his old roommate." My mood went downhill fast once Sam had added that.

"Where's my room?" I asked again.

"You'll like your roommate. He's definitely a character."

"Where's my room?" I asked for the third time, starting to lose my patience, Sam skirted over difficult questions worse than George Bush, and that's saying something.

"Go down that corridor, take your first left, and then your second left until you reach the..." And by that point I stopped paying attention. "... and it's the third room along the row. And remember its room L-G34, not L-G43 because that's at the other side of the ship. You ok with that? I'd take you there myself, but I've got to shoot off to work." Sam finished.

"Yeah. I'll find it." I replied. Sam shook my hand before leaving. Jesus! He had some grip on him.

I started to regret not listening about five minutes later. This ship was just a shrine to steel, wires slithered like snakes down the labyrinths of corridors. By now the majority of personnel were getting ready to sleep, so at least I didn't have to shove past dozens of people every step of the way.

After forty minutes and so many steps that I lost count I could see L-G34 in the distance, I sprinted towards it. It was actually L-G43. Shit Shit Shit!

And so I spent another half hour aimlessly wandering the corridors. If my feet weren't hurting I would've danced with joy when I finally found the room, I checked my watch; 9pm. Wasn't late for me, I usually went to sleep a lot later, but I had to be up for 4am, which was a lot earlier than I was used to! I guess I'd have to adapt a navy body clock.

Much to my disappointment, the door wasn't like one of those huge metal ones like they have on boats in action movies, you know; the ones which have little windows, and wheels to open them with. It was just an ordinary door.

I took a deep breath right before I went in. I was a little scared about who this bunkmate was going to be; Sam wasn't exactly out in the open about what this guy was like, for all I know he could be a crazed serial killer who kills all of his bunkmates with his bare hands and uses their bones to make furniture.

I went into the room and shut the door behind me. I scanned the room; neutral walls and floor, a small window. I've seen rooms bigger in a doll's house. I had to hunch because the ceiling was so low! No bone furniture; that's good. No furniture of any kind; that's bad. The focus of the room was two single beds only about half a foot apart, and only another half a foot away from the walls. Now I would know what it's like to sleep in a coffin! A man was lying on one of the beds, an open book obscuring his face.

"New bunk buddy huh?" A man said. I noticed a slight European tinge to his American accent; maybe Danish.

"Yep." I replied, not knowing what else to say.

The man dropped the book and stood up, holding out his hand.

"Eric North." He said.

"Bill Compton." I stammered, avoiding eye contact by looking at his forehead, I'm terrible at meeting new people. We shook hands.

"Take a seat. It's not like this room is big enough for us to stand up." He said, sitting back down on his bed. I sat on the other bed.

I had to admit that Eric was Abercrombie handsome; about 9 notches above regular handsome. Tall. Square jawed and broad shouldered (was I the only person on this ship that wasn't broad?). Dark blonde hair, the most extraordinary blue eyes. Chiselled cheekbones like some hero of Greek mythology. Muscles bursting through his tight white T-shirt.

Right now I was feeling a mixture of relief and jealousy.

"What brought you on this fine vessel then?" Eric asked with a grin, exposing his gleaming white teeth.

"I'm a mechanic by trade; the pay was really good, that was until I was let go during this recession. My girlfriend and I were starting to struggle financially so I enlisted in the Navy as a mechanical engineer."

"How's she feeling with all of this?"

"Sookie was upset at first; she's only a waitress so she doesn't earn much, so she understood so it was either enlist, or get our apartment repossessed." I replied. "What about you?"

"Tried to get to college to study Anthropology but my grades weren't good enough. So I joined the navy instead." Was he kidding? Then again, he looked deadly serious.

We continued our ice breaker. Turns out Eric and I had a lot of things in common; we're both 24, vegetarians and Democrats. Not to mention we both support the Dallas Cowboys, love old Westerns and played baseball in high school.

As for what made us different; I'm from a little town in Louisiana with parents as Southern as they come, he grew up in New York, son of Swedish immigrants. My idea of literature is Stephen King; his is Nabokov, Tolstoy, Eliot and a bunch of random 19th century European philosophers! Not to mention he's 6"4 and I'm only just 5"10 (on my tip toes anyway).

"We'd best get to sleep, you'll be like a soaked lettuce in the morning." Eric advised. I agreed.

My stuff was already here, but I didn't bother to unpack yet, it's not like it's a fashion show or anything. I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed. It wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. Granted I would've preferred my own bed, but this was sleepable. The blanket awful though, some really cheap and synthetic fabric, it itched against my bare skin.

"You'll get used to the blankets... eventually." Eric said as he climbed into bed. As I expected he had abs that normal human beings couldn't get unless they sold their soul to the devil. He turned the light off as soon as he got comfortable.

"These beds are so close together we can high five without moving." Eric said. We tried, we actually could.

"Night buddy." I said. Eric said something similar back.

I was lying in a dark box, which I was sharing with a guy I'd only met an hour ago, thousands of miles away from my girlfriend. Yet somehow, I slept like a baby.

* * *

><p>The next morning I was at work before I was properly awake. I rushed through a breakfast of cereal and toast which I regretted as soon as the mega heartburn kicked in.<p>

I was working in the engine room; it was drenched in humid steam and the stench of motor oil. A constant cluttering and spluttering of machinery drilled through my eardrums, and the taste of sweat glided down my brow and onto my lips. I spent most of the time lying on my stomach in nooks, squinting through the near darkness as I tightened any loose machinery. All of this meant I wasn't particularly overwhelmed with excitement when my superiors told me that this was what I'd be doing every other day. Fun.

After a quick break for lunch, I had an appointment with Dr Ravencroft. I was told it was part of the induction routine for all new staff. She's the ship psychologist, although you wouldn't have guessed that from the way she behaved. She was easily the most fashionable person I'd met on the ship! She took pride in the fact that she always kept makeup down her bra in case of emergency. Yeah, she told me this about five minutes after I'd first met her! She wasn't backwards in coming forwards. Think of a cross between Melanie Griffith and Madonna; tall, honey hair tied into a cute ponytail, wire glasses, clear complexion, eyes a dull sapphire.

"What you think so far? The food? The shifts?" Wicked grin still glued to her face as she bombarded me with questions.

"Food's bearable. But the shifts are killing me!" I replied.

"What about co-workers?"

"They seem nice, except for some blonde who fires questions down your throat like missiles." I joked. She knocked the cap of my head.

"Who's your roommate?" She asked.

"Eric North." On cue she exhaled in glee and collapsed dramatically into my arms, raising her hand to her head.

"What I wouldn't give to be his roommate." I laughed, then realised that she was serious. "He posed for the ship's calendar, and boy does he have a body. And some brains to go with it. He went to that fancy boys school in New York; I forget what it's called."

I would've loved to have procrastinated the day away with her, but sadly I had work to return to. Another five hours of toil. Fun. I'm hardly an unfit person, but my heart was bouncing around like a tennis ball. I coughed uncontrollably, my lungs heavy like concrete. I swear I must be asthmatic or something! I gagged loudly, my throat tightened. Gurgling, I opened my mouth, vomit poured out like porridge, my lunch fermenting in bile.

The next few hours were a blur at best. I was taken by some strangers into the infirmary; I lay in bed, awake but immobile for an unknown period of time. A nurse intermittently gave me pills. Eventually I had a visitor, it was Sam; he sat on a chair next to my bed.

"How you feeling?" He asked.

"Been better." I said.

"Doctors say you had a severe anxiety attack." Sam said. I didn't reply so he continued. "Dr Ravencroft is concerned about your mental state; she thinks you'll benefit from counselling. She also asked for you to switch departments, the engine room isn't a place that does wonders for your mental health."

Two things orbited round in my mind; relief that I wouldn't have to work in that horrible engine room again but also a gaping chasm of fear, which I dangled over on a fine wire.

"It's just so much to take in." I replied.

"I'll talk another time then. Get well soon kid." Sam tousled my hair as if I was his son. He sure had some funny ways about him.

"Thanks Sam."

He left before I could salute.

I slumped back into the bed, my temples pulsating. Anxiety attack? Wasn't that what hormonal teenage girls had? My parents are conservative; the archetypal God fearing, gun loving, gay hating Republicans (I still hadn't told them that I voted Democrat, and decided that I never would!) They would just tell me to "man up!" and get on with it. To them depression was just being sad, and an anxiety attack was just being over-excitable.

I chuckled to myself. I was pretty sure I'd have a breakdown someday. Probably because I was a sickly kid. I had as many fevers as I had toys! Allergies, bugs, rashes, viruses, chest infections, headaches; all the colours of the unhealthy rainbow. I had chronic Bronchitis for nearly a year; my parents didn't let me leave the house and told me to pray to God to make me better. Thank God when they finally listened to the doctors and got me medication, otherwise I wouldn't have pulled through. When I reached 14 my fragile composure improved, I filled out, my immune system grew stronger. My parents said it was a miracle of God, I knew it was a miracle of a kind puberty and supplements.

My mind refused to work anymore; my muscles grew heavy and sank down into the mattress. I fell into a benzodiazepine induced sleep.

I awoke an unknown time later to find Eric and a nurse at my bedside.

"When he's up to it, he can leave." The nurse ignored me awaking. Eric smiled at her; she blushed and walked off, shaking her ass in a provocative way.

"You had me scared." Eric sounded genuinely concerned. An unknown warmth tingled down my chest. The nurse walked past, without warning he switched from concerned to wisecracking. "I didn't want to be searching for another roommate."

"Nice to see you care about my wellbeing." I joked.

"There's a swinging brick where my heart should be."

"You wouldn't have came to see me if you were that heartless."

"It makes me look good." Eric whispered, as if it was just between me and him.

Eric hooked his arm under mine and eased me up. The nurse offered me a wheelchair, but I could walk just fine. Or so I thought. My body buckled under my weight. I didn't realise that I'd been asleep for almost a day! My muscles awoke fairly quickly. Thankfully it wasn't a long walk from the infirmary to our room.

"Thanks." I hugged Eric. He shivered in revulsion, pushing me away from him. A sharp pang prodded my stomach. My heart stung, I felt like an idiot. His face went red.

"Sorry. I'm not a real touchy feely person. And it was nothing." He apologised, struggling to make eye contact. That was a little hypocritical, especially seeing he was the one who always seemed to put his arm around me, and he high fived at any excuse.

I looked to the walls, trying to change the topic "Some photos or posters would be nice." I said, thinking that was a pretty decent attempt.

"It'll make the room look even smaller." Eric answered.

"But it already looks like a prison cell."

"That's navy life for you." Eric laughed. Perhaps nervously, perhaps forced. He laughed off any question that he struggled to answer, and it worked.

"Do you have a life besides navy life then?" I asked. He laughed; surprise surprise. "Serious now." I kept on.

He took a deep breath, as if about to recite a passage from memory.

"Single since I can remember. No kids. Only child. Parents I barely see."

"Where do you go when you're on leave?" I asked.

"I stay in the apartment my parents bought me on the Upper East Side. And just drink, eat and sleep a lot."

Upper East Side! Jesus they must've had some money!

"Your parents must be rich?"

"They own Skagaared"

Was he joking! That was a huge Swedish telecom company.

"No kidding, they do. When I told them I didn't have any interest in joining the family business they demanded that I change my name to something else. Because fighting for your country is so embarrassing ain't it?" This was the most painfully honest I'd seen Eric in the brief time I'd known him; I could see his true face; his smile sunk, eyes drained of life. His voice faltered as if he was halfway to crying. Choking on the emotions he tried to smother under laughs.

It hurt me to see him like this. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but I knew he'd freak out again.

"You went to that private school didn't you, what was it like?" I asked. He rolled his eyes.

"The most repellent place I've ever been in my life. I stuck out like a nun in a Metallica concert; all the other boys were from families where they had inherited wealth and the pretensions that came with it! My parents were self made, they always made me appreciate the value of money and hard work, the other boys only knew the former. That's all folks."

Eric played ball in all fairness so I didn't grill him on it anymore. I told him about Bon Temps High School (where I went). I'm not the most academic person, but I worked hard and got good enough grades. And I had friends. But school wasn't at all a completely happy time; I got bullied a lot. I was an easy target; shy, insecure, short and fragile. It was years before it stopped. My parents never asked me why I had a black eye or torn clothes, and I hated them for that.

"Kids are cruel fuckers." Eric stated. The F-bomb seemed alien from someone so articulate.

We talked more about our childhoods before we hit the hay. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, into the abyss. The unexplored maze of repression and yearning inside me had finally awoken. I opened my mouth, air escaped instead of words.

"Did you say something?" Eric whispered through the darkness.

"It was nothing"

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Hello. I hope you enjoyed this so far.<strong>

**This isn't the territory I usually write into, so I'm wrote this story as a challenge to improve my writing skills. Each to their own, but personally this type of story doesn't appeal to me as (with some notable exceptions) they tend to become an excuse for gratuitous sex, and little else. So it's my mission to try and keep this story thoughtful and character driven.**

****I'd love to know what you think of it, I'm a perfectionist so I'm always open to suggestions about how to improve.**  
><strong>

**:)**


	2. Revelation

_"A mighty pain to love it is. And 'tis a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain, it is to love, but love in vain."- Abraham Cowley_

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><p>My whole body was trembling, I could taste vomit. Was I overreacting? Well I expected that all I'd be doing for the next hour was talking about myself. So that was pretty terrifying. Add to that, that I would be talking to Dr Ravencroft, so my physical protest was almost justifiable.<p>

"Wanna say something to start us off?" Dr Ravencroft was opposite me, eagerly clutching her notepad and pen.

"Not really." I said, looking away from her. I slouched further down on the couch.

Her office was polar opposite to the rest of the ship; pink wallpaper, fluffy cushions, a vase of flowers and semi naked pictures of Matthew McConaughey on the walls.

"Don't be nervous. No one else needs to know. Call me Pam." She replied. "This is sounds like a cliché, but tell me about your childhood."

I moaned loudly.

"Your reaction tells me that it could be the root of your problem."

"I'd rather not." I answered. I'd rather drink concentrated acid.

"Who has a psychology degree? Not you. So unless you let me help you, you won't be able to help yourself."

I thought psychologists weren't meant be forceful! Because Pam surely was!

"Where shall I start?"

"How about your parents?" Pam suggested.

I considered faking an anxiety attack to escape answering her. But sooner or later it would be inevitable anyway. I took a deep breath, wondering how to put it articulately; '_They're absolutely retarded and too busy loving Jesus to love their own fucking son who I know for a fact they didn't even want_''didn't seem suitable.

I told her that Jonathan Compton became a minister at Bon Temps Presbyterian Church at the tender age of 23. His Deacon, Hazel, became his wife. They agreed that sex was unholy and against God's call to them, so they slept in separate beds. But one night nature got the better of them, I was the outcome. So neither of them were grateful of my existence from day one.

I didn't realise how unusual my childhood was compared to all my friends. My only bedtime story was the Bible. TV consisted of Televangelists ranting on about the "evils" of the modern world. I learned to clean and cook for myself before I was eight as most nights my parents were busy in Church. Sunday school was every night they actually were home. Both were impatient (obviously due to lack of sex) and shouted at me for anything.

"How did you feel about this?" Pam asked.

Did she actually have a psychology degree or was she just saying what they always say on TV. I didn't answer. I couldn't put it into words, or be cruel enough to make another person feel it. My eyes focused on one of the Matthew McConaughey pictures, then the stack of gossip magazines and then another Matthew McConaughey picture, I'd look at anything except Pam right now.

"We're getting warmer methinks." Pam said, balancing excitement with sympathy.

"I said how I feel." I told her.

"You gave me their life stories, not how they make you feel." I had to give it to her; she was sharp.

"Don't want to talk about it."

"I do." She stung back. My veins coursed with fire. I stormed up, nearly biting through my lower jaw.

"I don't care!" I yelled. I sprinted out, slamming the door behind me. Pam didn't follow.

I went back into my room, Eric wasn't there. Thank God! I punched the steel wall, a hollow thump. Ignoring the wave of pain that rumbled up my arm I punched again, and again. I stopped, clutching my bleeding hand in shame. Fucking religious guilt.

* * *

><p>I counted down the hours before we'd dock as I worked. I wasn't allowed into any tight spaces like the engine room anymore, but there were still tons of jobs my superiors were giving me instead. I'd been in the Navy for a few months now, as a whole it wasn't a bad time. But they were down moments. I'd restarted my weekly sessions with Pam after my outburst. Maybe I would actually to make progress.<p>

We had a leaked fuel tank that needs replacing; there are no spares on the ship so we stopped at the nearest dock for a few nights to change it. That would be NavSta Rota; it's in Spain! I'm pretty excited because I've never been to Spain before.

By the time I'd finished fixing yet another broken table, the head honcho came over the tannoy system; saying that we had docked and that all non-essential staff (that's me!) would be excused until further notice. That was what I was hoping for!

I rushed to my room; Eric was already there.

"Viva España mi amigo!" Eric exclaimed in a Spanish accent. I didn't do Spanish in school, but from his excitement I assumed that it translated to "Let's get pissed."

I went through the tiny wardrobe we shared. Most of it was the uniforms we were forced to wear, but we had a handful of our own clothes in case of situations like this.

It was late June and the Mediterranean. Because of this I settled for a white T-shirt, sandy coloured shorts that stopped just above my knee and canvas shoes. Eric wore a white linen shirt with sleeves completely ripped off, dark shorts and a darker version of my shoes.

I looked at myself; dark brown hair which I can't do anything to, so I just leave it the way it is; it's a bit like Paul McCartney's when The Beatles were still together. My eyes (also brown) are a little puffy in my opinion, but Sookie loves them. My bone structure apparently makes me handsomer. My self-opinion isn't that high, but I know I'm not at all ugly. A few people have told me I should try modelling for extra cash. I would if I could, but I'm too short and scrawny, not to mention I'm so sickly looking that strangers go up to me and ask how my chemotherapy is going!

I looked puny compared to the 6'4" of rippled bronze muscle besides me, if I worked out 12 hours a day and survived on chickpeas we could share a "Men's Health" cover, with the title "My buff roommate made me beef up". Actually that was pretty weird.

Heat mauled us as we walked onto the port; a warmth not eased by the breezeless air. The overpowering vapour motor oil, sweat and cheap Spainish beer covered any other smells. Flurries of birds competed with the crickets to see who could chirp the loudest and most irritatingly. It was a tie.

We walked towards a gaggle of other servicemen, all in civilian clothes.

"What's the plan?" A friendly but nerdy computer analyst called Barry asked.

"They want us to stay on base. But what the town isn't far away; we'll be let off leash." John Quinn; Arrogant, self-centred, steroid abuser. More hairs on his shaved head than he has brain cells. A genuinely nasty piece of work.

"But John, what if we get caught."

"I told you! Call me Quinn! And what they don't know won't hurt them." Quinn shouted back at Barry who quaked and grovelled an apology.

"Who's with me?"

The others agreed, including Eric. I followed. The plan was climb over the fence around back and run off into town for a bit. I felt chained to all the other repressed souls who broke out, from the miners on strike, to the feminists burning their bras. I felt liberated, to escape the baggage and chains of this prison for a few hours. Unusually, I was in the mood to lose my mind and let my hair down.

One by one we climbed over the fence. Eric hoisted me up, I gripped the top and pulled myself over, landing on my knees, I got up and shook the sand off me.

We sprinted; adrenaline sustaining my burning muscles. Obviously I wasn't a great runner, so I had to take a break behind a tree. My head on my knees, breathing rapidly. Cycles of sweat drying and renewing down my body. My heart flapped like a hummingbird, lungs coiled with every spluttering cough. I told you I swear I'm slightly asthmatic! The others went on ahead, except Eric.

"You ok?" Eric asked, sitting next to me on the arid turf, his thigh muscles tight against his shorts.

"Fine thanks. You can go on ahead." I replied, between shallow breaths.

"It's fine. Quinn is pissing me off already." Eric smiled, exposing his lustrous teeth. I still hadn't decided if they were veneers or not.

"I'll say. What a jerk!"

When I had enough of a rest we began running again. It was getting dark; there were no street lamps nearby so we had to run like lunatics. In this weather that was appalling. I felt like I'd gone for a bath by the time we reached the town.

We found the others outside a bank withdrawing cash. We weren't meant to carry credit cards, but everyone did! It came in handy for times like this.

I was relieved when I found that the overdraft on my card had been paid off. I took out 30 Euros, hoping that it would be enough. I'm not good with exchange rates.

We were searching until my feet were starting to throb. Thankfully we found a club, the doorman let us in when he saw we were from the forces. Spanish dance music bludgeoned our eardrums, and that was before we even got into the proper part of the club!

The club was a terrifying mash up of old and new. The starched yellow stone walls of a traditional hacienda complete with wicker chairs coupled with a marble island-bar, state of the art DJ equipment and led low-level lighting surrounding pockets of darkness around the room. Wooden floor throughout.

It was popular, but not crammed together into cardboard popular; there must've been about 40 other people in the club. A few couples making out dotted around, some tourists, a gaggle of Spanish girls about our age and a few kids barely old enough to drink!

We ordered our drinks from a pair of waitresses in dresses so short you could practically see their asses. The 10 of us sat in a semicircle. I had a San Miguel. It was good, so I ordered another, and another. And a fourth, but I couldn't drink it; I could hear their voices in my head, shouting that I'd go to hell.

My parents lectured me since I could walk on the "demon drink". Dad threatened to smash my face in with a beer bottle if he ever caught me drinking; I didn't start drinking until I moved out at 18, because I knew that he would've followed his threat through.

However much I forced myself to disregard all that my parents preached as bullshit, guilt takes over free will, and I find myself giving in to them. I was desperate to have a tattoo, but when I went to have it done I ran out because my parents said the devil could enter my body through the ink. And I still feel unusually obliged not to work on a Sunday, maybe because it's "Our lord's day of rest" as they put it.

I haven't spoken to them in 5 years, and was happy for it, but the blood inside me was polluted with their ignorance and piousness. I hate to admit it, but even though I'm an atheist, their words, buried deep into memory, whisper me into shame. I feel embarrassed to be in my skin, an outcast, leper. As if whatever I do "God" is seeing and is disgusted by.

One by one the men around me disappeared, leaving with various ladies. Obviously if you haven't had sex for five months the natural response is to get some action as soon as you're off the leash.

"And then they were four." Eric quoted Agatha Christie. Besides me and him, the only two left were Barry and Quinn.

Quinn walked over to the bar to try and pull a Spanish woman (who was way out of his league might I add) ordering drinks for her and her friends.

"Hey babe, wanna come with me." He slurred, putting his arm around her. She shoved him off her; sickened to the core, and began to walk away. "Fine! Fucking stupid foreigners!"

"I am a cardiologist actually." She replied, in better English than him, before walking back to her friends.

"Fucking stupid foreigners!" He said again. I thought if they were really as stupid as he was saying they were, he would have been fighting off women left right and center. "I'm gonna go somewhere else to find someone. Wingman anyone?" Quinn asked.

"I'll come." Barry said, like one of those unbearable kids in school who begs the teacher to let them answer every question.

"I'll definitely pick up a woman if I'm getting compared to you." Quinn said. Barry was hurt by this. If I wasn't such a wimp Quinn would be so badly hurt by now that he'd need a machine to help him go to the bathroom. "If you guys don't score, I'm taking it your fags. In which case get the fuck out of the navy." Quinn looked at us as if we were pond slime. He waved us goodbye; intentionally camp, as he left with Barry.

"Thank God he's gone!" Eric whispered as soon as he was sure Quinn couldn't hear.

"Agreed. I mean if anyone was gay what difference would it make to any of us?" I replied. Eric's head jerked backwards, twisting his tongue as his eyes narrowed. Was it something I said?

"Hopefully you're joking. If the government gets rid of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" it'll be the worst thing they could do." The worst thing was he wasn't even joking. Eric's face had warped from amusement to disgust.

"Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is the law that prevents homosexuals and bisexuals serving in the military, they argue it disrupts unit cohesion. If any serviceman or woman is outed they are immediately dismissed from the army. It makes me sick that the 'land of the free' can allow it. Its double standards at their worst. There's some talk about repealing it, but I doubt it'll happen for a while.

"How can you say you're liberal if you think that?" I asked, trying to avoid confrontation.

"I'm not homophobic. I just don't think it's fair that us normal people should have to be in such close constant contact with... them. I don't want them to see me naked or anything. They could get off or something." Eric gave me a look as if he'd thrown up in his mouth. "And I'm not stereotyping. It's just all the gays I've ever met don't give a damn who they fuck."

"Maybe you're right." I replied. Now to change the topic! I don't like gays either; I just think that if we were that much of a democracy we should allow them to fight for our country, because we always need more troops!

"Maybe you're right." I replied. Now to change the topic! "This weather is crazy huh?" Epic fail. But at least it made Eric laugh.

We continued talking idly, until she came over. Pale and willowy like a mannequin; raven hair in a bob, semi Asian eyes, huge boobs, long legs. She was wearing a scarlet dress and matching heels; ivory voice. She told us to call her Lorena.

She charmed us all right. She caught Eric looking at her legs, so she pulled the dress up higher. She thought she saw me checking out her ass, so she bent over at any excuse. Apparently she's was foreign language student from Seattle. The skankiest girl in the club just had to be American didn't she.

We stayed chatting to her for a few hours, going up with her to dance when a song she liked came on. She eventually asked if we'd eaten - we hadn't since lunch time. Neither had she turns out. She nagged us to take her for food, so we left the club once we paid, and made our way around the cobbled streets.

Bats zipped overhead, screeching fiercely. Bats are my favourite animal, I know some people find them scary, but I think they're kind of cute. If only you could keep them as pets.

"This is the best place!" Lorena ignored all the decent restaurants and pointed to Burger King; she didn't seem to embrace Spanish culture. She walked towards it.

"We're vegetarian." I said. "Is there anything we can actually eat?"

"I think they do veggie burgers." Yum. Or not. Veggie burgers in my experience tend to taste like wet cardboard. I was ready to run, but Eric seemed compliant to humour her.

We went inside, the dull hue of halogen bulbs rained down on us. A mopey teenager took our order, more acne than dollars per hour. Once that was done we went to sit as close to the door as possible, there was a clock across the street, which was handy considering none of us were wearing watches.

Lorena ordered an Angus burger and fries; Eric and I had veggie burgers and fries. We left most of it; otherwise our arteries would never forgive us! We just stayed there looking at each other, or anything else to avoid looking at Lorena.

"Seeing you strapping men are in the navy, you'd take me home won't you?" Lorena said, one she had finished. Eric and I said we'd be honoured, biggest lie in a long time!

We regretted agreeing to do this when we realised just how far away Lorena's apartment was. Slowly our suspicions rose as she started slipping in that her roommates might be "entertaining" friends of their own, and that she had to stop in the chemist on the way back.

"She's a prostitute. I've heard of this type; seagulls, they hang around military bases, they think all troops wanna do is drop their load for cash, I've heard they charge a bomb." Eric whispered to me when Lorena walked out in front.

"An easy living." I whispered back.

Lorena stopped outside a four story classic Spanish home; flat roof, terracotta, tiny windows, you know, like the ones on TV. This must be hers.

"You two coming inside?" She said, trying to be seductive.

"We'll pass." Eric said, already backing away from her.

"I thought you navy boys liked it this way?" This assumption pissed me off, and Eric was ten times more offended than I was.

"I thought you whores knew when to call quits." Eric said, nearly shouting.

"Faggot!" She swung drunkenly for him; he dodged it, and stormed off, at far too quick a speed for me to keep up. Awkward. He'd left me alone with her. She came towards me, slipping her hand up my shirt, wrapping her leg around my back. Thank God no one was around! She shoved me against the wall.

"Let's see what a real man can do." She said, oozing sexuality from every orifice. She grabbed my hand and placed it on her breast, which surprisingly was nothing to write home about. She forced her mouth onto mine, grappling her tongue down my throat. Part of me felt like I had to give in, but I couldn't do this to Sookie. I gripped Lorena's wrists to stop her from ripping off my shirt. She struggled, so I let go and sidestepped, sending her to the ground, she fell to her hands, but I didn't stay to look.

"Nope." I replied.

"Don't you like girls?" Lorena screamed as I ran off. Shadows engulfed the path, I would be screwed when I eventually got back, but it's better than staying with Lorena.

I ignored everything, except my will to get me back to Eric. I would later regret this, as I didn't realise Quinn had seen the whole thing. The speed Eric had run he'd probably be on the boat by now.

I ran, and ran. I reached the town square, there were dozens of people around me, that made me feel safer. I took a breather; scared I'd have another anxiety attack. I sat on a bench, next to an old Spanish lady who couldn't stop staring at me. I must've looked a mess.

Once I'd had enough rest I got up and wandered around the town, alone. I just walked in the general direction of the base. I spent 20 minutes doing this, until by chance I found Eric sitting on a step outside an ice-cream parlour, eating chocolate ice-cream. I sat next to him.

"Nice?" I asked, hoping to avoid mentioning Lorena.

"You have no idea. I wish we had leaking fuel tanks more often." Eric said in between spoonfuls. I went and bought the same, and sat back by him. "We should head back to base after this," he added. I agreed, and we did.

"What are we going to say we did if we're caught?" I asked as we got within a hundred yards of the base.

"Just that we went for a walk. Definitely nothing about Lorena though." Oh well, she was going to come up sooner or later.

"She didn't endear herself did she?"

"Especially as she was barking up the wrong tree." Eric added, not realising how ironic that would become. "As if we would have a threesome with her. Makes me sick."

"Makes you think though, people must do it." I said. Eric bit his tongue, shuddering in disgust, his body rigid like steel.

"I don't want to talk about this." It seemed Eric was liberal with everything except sex.

We climbed back over the fence and snuck back onboard ship without being spotted, thank God! We crept back to our room. It was two in the morning, the latest I'd stayed up in months if I didn't have a night shift.

It was like an oven, the metal walls conducting the heat. Within seconds of entering the room we were drenched. I looked at myself; my skin was bright red instead of the usual milky shade, my hair damp and body drenched in sweat, as soon as it cooled more came through.

I undressed and squelched into bed, even my underwear was soaked. I threw everything but the thinnest sheet to the floor, wrapping it loosely around my body.

"Fuck me. It's melting." Eric fanned himself. He was just as flustered from the heat as me. Eric also stripped to his underwear, he turned on the poky little fan in the corner; muscles tensed with every movement he made, air blowing gently against his skin, droplets of sweat sliding down his taut body.

He slipped into bed, shoulder blades arced, back muscles overwrought. He was oblivious to this as he turned the light off.

"Good night buddy." Eric high fived me. We did the same every night. I yearned to keep hold of his hand, his low heat sparked a mitosis of new colours and alien self consciousness inside of me. I parted my lips, about to expel this vivid sensation like an afterbirth. The colour dried in my throat.

"Night pal." I reply, black and white. I drew my hand away from his, stinging from his absence.

I lay awake in sterile darkness, heat crushing my frail body, when logic kicked in. My parents' words tighten like a noose, burning through my flesh. Shame amassed like pus to a septic wound. I wished it was a nightmare, and murmured soundlessly, I forced myself not to think of sharing Eric's bed. My little queer fantasy, was making me physically sick.

Self loathing surged through me, I was a freak, an abomination, barely half a man. I needed psychological help definitely, that's what my parents told me everyone with my condition needed; they'd lectured me on the evils of homosexuality since I was old enough to walk. I knew they were terrified that I could be one of those freaks; being so ill all the time set off the alarm bells; this was fuelled by the fact I wasn't interested in religion or contact sports or girls.

Part of me hated myself for what I'd just thought; the other part hated me because I was actually bothered that I had considered their feelings. I didn't care what my parents thought at least that's what I was telling myself: who am I kidding? Of course I care what they think! They're my only family. Even if I hated them, some retarded part of me feels like I have to please them and a God I don't even believe in.

Shit. Sookie too. What was I going to do about her? I couldn't go "I like men now, bye Sook!" could I? I decided to put it down as a drunken lapse of character, never again. But what Lorena had said played on loop in my head.

'_Don't you like girls?'_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Hey again, hope you guys liked this chapter, we're getting into the nitty gritty of it now. Poor Bill :(<strong>

**P.S. I know as of current "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" has been repealed (thank God), but for plots sake this is set a year or two before it gets repealed.**


	3. Exodus

_"And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. "- Khalil Gibran_

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><p>As the weeks passed, I realised it wasn't a drunken lapse of character, it was in fact a reawakening. Or if I was brutally honest with myself, just an awakening. I had never truly liked girls. I only had girlfriends so that I could keep my parents happy and reassure my sleeping consciousness that I was straight, I was so desperate to believe that I lied to myself until I believed it.<p>

I was actually homosexual.

Sookie always said I had a lower sex drive than any other man she'd known. I love Sookie, but I can't avoid the cliché "not in that way". I'm drowning in salty guilt that I've been leading her on like this; all the times she whispered gently that she loved me into my ear after we'd made love (she thought it was love anyway), I was lying back to her that I felt the same. I've always seen sex as intimidating; I want to receive pleasure from it, which was like trying to get yourself to enjoy being kicked in the balls, you just can't in my state.

Even worse than the fact that I was gay was the fact that I loved Eric. I ask myself, out of everyone why the hell did it have to be him!

I'd further waded around the subject of gays with him. And discovered he was perhaps the most homophobic person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. He actually told me that if they don't stay single they should be hung upside down by areas of their anatomy that I didn't even want to talk about! If only he knew. Or not. He even "joked" that AIDS wouldn't be such a bad thing if it couldn't get spread to straight people. And if we talked about this for any longer than five minutes he'd enter this depressed mood when he wouldn't talk to me for hours!

I did my best to avoid any unnecessary awkwardness with Eric, I only went to the showers if when I knew for a fact he'd be elsewhere, I sometimes timetabled my day in the way which would help me avoid him the most and I jumped into bed and closed my eyes before he'd even undress to avoid seeing his gorgeous body. I had to stop using words like "gorgeous" to describe him.

It was like starving myself, I craved his presence, at night I cry to myself; either about what a freak I was or that the license I'd so readily give Eric's hands he would never give my own, to rove over every inch of his masculine body; the firm pectorals, the strong groove of his six pack. It hurt so much to be sleep almost next to the person you love, while they'd see a relationship with you as beyond sickening. You feel irrelevant. Sometimes I dreamed of us doing things, which I refuse to repeat of grounds of good taste, not that I wouldn't enjoy it.

I wonder if there's something like alcoholics anonymous for people like me, imagine that; "Hi, I'm Bill Compton and I'm a closet stark raving queer."

* * *

><p>Today I had to help Eric install a new cooling tank, I hadn't talked to him properly in almost a week, so I felt that it would be safe to spend the whole day working with him, for now anyway. I wasn't very hungry or in the mood for talking to anyone so we nabbed some sandwiches from the mess hall and sat on the floor near the cooling tank we'd half installed. I love the feeling you get when you sit down and watch everyone run past.<p>

"What's wrong Bill? You've been really distant, evasive even." Eric said, his blue eyes shimmering a hole in my misplaced heart.

"I'm fine." I lied.

"I'm not stupid. You're missing Sookie aren't you, don't worry, we'll be home in a month." Eric put his arm around my shoulder, I held back my need to embrace him, his touch itself was intoxicating enough, I tingled as if I'd entered a mini-nirvana. I almost laughed in the irony of what he said. I wasn't even missing Sookie in the slightest.

"That's it. I miss her, but I guess you're right."

My day was going to get worse. I knew that when Quinn come came over, smirking nastily.

"Bill Boy-Lover Compton, how are you?" Quinn relished the venom in his words. "You get the present I made?" This morning I'd found a sticky note saying "Help! I like it up the ass!" stuck to my locker.

"I did." I replied, trying my best not to be hurt, when in reality my heart was bleeding so hard I felt like I was gonna explode. He didn't know he'd made me cry dozens of times. He'd been bullying me for almost 4 months now, everyday he'd push me into things, call me names, throw stuff at me and tell people made-up stories about me. I felt like I was in high school again.

"Why you still here? No room for fags in the military."

"What's going on?" Eric demanded as soon as he realised Quinn wasn't joking.

"I saw him shoving that hot chick off him when we were in Spain. And have you seen the way he stares at you? Not to mention he just looks it. If this isn't enough to say he's gay, I don't know what is." Quinn replied.

"I have a name!" I yelled at him, standing up, he grabbed me by the shirt and knocked me into the wall. Ouch. I wasn't strong enough to push him off me. He bashed my head into the wall twice more. Double ouch, if I don't get a concussion I'll be a lucky-ish man. He gripped my wrists, preventing me from striking him back.

"Why you such a freak then?" Quinn taunted. "Human nature? Mommy never loved you? Weird Uncle rape you? Over-experiment with school buddies?" Eric knocked him hard in the face with a fist, blood squirted out of his nose and over me, nice.

"Say it again." Eric said, punching Quinn again, this time flooring him.

By now a crowd had gathered around us, so before Eric could lay into Quinn anymore we were separated from him by a barrier of people. Within a few blurry minutes the pair of us were talking to Sam inside a supply closet since it was the nearest quiet room.

"What happened folks?" Sam asked, although he already knew. He's like a Starbucks; he has a knack for popping up everywhere and anywhere where you least expect it.

"How come we always see you and never any of the big bosses?" I asked.

"They do all the major stuff; people like me do random things like this. So I kind am a boss, at least that's what I tell myself." Sam said, before realising that it was my ploy to get him on a tangent. "Fine, I know what happened. But why?"

"Wouldn't you hit him for that?" Eric asked. Sam chuckled.

"Fair enough. Quinn's requested to move ship, apparently he doesn't like being told he can't mouth off to anyone. He won't bother you anymore Bill." That was a relief, albeit a minor one in the bigger picture of things. Sam, like most people on ship, hated Quinn, hence why he was almost relieved to see him go.

Sam asked Eric to leave because he wanted to talk to me privately. It turned out he was still concerned for my mental health and advised I should consider more therapy sessions with Pam. I said I would. I then left, promising I'd meet her tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Back in Pam's office for the session I promised Sam I'd have with her, not much had changed except she'd got another cactus resting on her desk.<p>

"How're you feeling." Pam said, taking a sip of coffee from her Wonder Woman mug. "Honestly now." She knew I was going to lie otherwise.

"Pretty shitty as usual." I answered, under-exaggerating.

"I'm worried about you." I didn't answer, just stayed lying down on the couch. "Would you mind filling in this form... truthfully." Pam passed me this tick sheet. I obliged. I had to answer questions with 1-5, 1 being always, 5 being never.

"Feel isolated or lost?"- 1. "Lost interest in things you used to enjoy?"- 1. "Lost your appetite?"- 2. "Lost interest in maintaining friendships"- 2 (except for Eric). "Struggling to sleep"- 1. "Suffer with headaches and/or chest pains"- 1 for both. "Constantly feel hopeless, self-loathing, guilt and/or worthlessness."- should've put 1 but I put 2. "Have you had suicidal thoughts?"- 5.

I gave it back to her, her face sunk as she read it.

"Bill, if you carry on like this you'll end up with MDD... that's Major depressive disorder," she added once she realised she'd lost me. What a kick in the teeth. I felt a bigger failure than before, my parents' slurs that depression was for weaklings who couldn't cope with life had obviously affected me.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. You're no less of a man because of this." She clasped my hand, hoping it would reassure me. It didn't. If I'm no less of a man because of this, I'm still much less a man because I like other men in ways I shouldn't.

"I'm not ashamed; I just want to avoid it." I lied.

"You can't avoid it; you gotta take it as it comes. I'm giving you a few months leave on medical grounds, you need to be home; relax, spend time with your family and friends, do things you haven't been able to do because you're in the navy, long as you continue to see a psychiatrist."

"I guess that's good, when can I leave?" I asked.

"We can get a plane for you tonight."

The time until I got on the plane shot past so quickly that there are lots of gaps in my memory. Sam came to give me his cell phone number in case I needed him, Pam gave me hers too. I packed all my bags, had dinner and hopped on the plane. We were in the air when I realised that I hadn't said goodbye to Eric.

It was too late, the colour drained out of my eyes; the horizon we were headed towards became a gaping abyss. I rested my head against the window, ignoring the condensation. A seagull stumbled broken-winged into the ocean. A canary wants to leave the cage, and yet the things that keep it alive aren't on the outside.


	4. Wisdom

**Chapter 4: Wisdom**

* * *

><p><em>"Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command"- Alan Watts<em>

* * *

><p>I'd been home for three months, and I was half wishing I hadn't come back.<p>

Sookie had organised a surprise welcome home party for me. By the second hour of the party I realised how much I'd changed, I had nothing to talk to any of my friends about, in fact a large majority of them annoyed me like never before. The party ended without a hitch regardless. That night Sookie asked for sex, I told her I was too tired; a lie.

The next few days I just slept over 14 hours a day, barely eating, not physically able to do anything. Sookie understood because she thought I was worn out. Then after two weeks I couldn't avoid it anymore, I had sex with her, more unpleasant and terrifying than before, an absolute labour to pretend I was enjoying it. Over the next few weeks I went to the gym three times a week, went out drinking and to the baseball with some of my friends and took Sookie out for dinner a couple of times. Thankfully our money problems were over, she'd found a new job as a Realtor, the pay was far better, and I was earning just as much as I did before.

I made myself agree to Sookie's offers for sex at every opportunity; she'd missed me all those months I was at sea, so she was making up for lost time. More than ever I was struggling to kid myself that I found her sexually attractive, so much so that I began fantasizing about men whenever we did it, I felt sick. I couldn't even look her in the eye, when I did I saw Eric's blue eyes glimmer back at me. I held back convulsions whenever she kissed me.

The perceptive part of me realised this couldn't go on any longer. I was carrying on as if nothing had happened, I was leading her on, she loved me as intensely and unreservedly as before, I was a fraud who'd eaten her heart and refused to compensate.

I locked myself away whenever I started crying (which was most days). I refuse to let Sookie see me; that would just hammer the nail in the coffin. My parents told me men never cried, let alone let anyone else see them cry; I can't be one then because Sookie found me sobbing in the bathroom one night, I told her it was because I was missing my parents (I'd always told her they were dead). She believed me, I think. She's been nearly as scared as me about this Major Depressive Disorder thing, she dragged me to see a shrink twice a week, who I was getting nowhere with, he just told me to speak about my childhood every session and kept on giving me the Rorschach Test.

Sookie made me hold her every night, she told me that she never wanted to let go of me until I had to leave again, her squidgy flesh seemed fake like a mannequin, and cold like lifeless ivory. I let go of her as soon as she got off to sleep. Then I just lay awake for hours, white noise buzzing through my skull, thinking about what made me the way I am. Was I dropped as a baby? Sexually abused and just repressed all memories of it? A punishment to my parents for having sex? Insomnia was a bitch like that.

* * *

><p>I was away from anyone I knew for the first night in God knows how long. A few hours ago I found out Sookie was cheating on me with an old flame. She announced that she'd had enough of making the effort with me when I did nothing back to her, and was dumping me and moving in with him this very instant; I was overcome with relief.<p>

I took my car and drove out alone. I took money but had no idea where to go. We live in Shreveport so there were tons of bars I could've gone to, but for some reason I stopped my car outside one I saw in passing, it wasn't here when I left those months ago.

It was just a wide chunk of concrete surrounded by a car park."Fantasia" was written in a dull hue of neon above the door. It wasn't gonna be much, but a drink is a drink I guess. I parked my car and went inside. Whoa, was it more up market than I expected. Black marble floor, white fur rugs, leather chaise longue, a slab of ice built into the bar, dozens of tiny spotlights on the ceiling that probably cost more each than my car does. It looked like some whores boudoir. External appearances can be deceiving.

80s electronica played very low, almost drowned out under the voices of everyone in the bar. It seemed they were all dressed immaculately; in my jeans and red checked shirt I was pretty under-dressed. I took a seat at the bar, hoping someone would talk to me so I didn't look like a loser.

"What can I get you?" The barman asked; husky voice, long hair, probable Native American.

"Beer please." I asked. He poured me one.

"That's 30 bucks." Fucking hell! No wonder why everyone here looked so rich.

"Get me one too. I'll pay for both." A man a few stools up (only other person sitting at the bar) said. He came and sat next to me, yes! Someone to talk to.

"Don't worry, I'll pay for my own."

"Already put it on my tab, too late." He replied, sipping his beer. "Russell by the way. Russell Edgington." He held his hand out, I shook it, it reminded me of when I first met Eric.

"Bill Compton."

Russell said he was 38, but good for his age I'd give him that; trim, solid facial structure, dark brown hair thinning at an alarming rate, eyes so brown it was hard to see his pupils, straight teeth, only noticeable wrinkles around his eyes, and faultlessly dressed in black trousers, dress shoes, striped red and black shirt and red tie.

I talked to him for two hours; what a nice guy. He was from Missouri, but he's a freelance architect who's been commissioned to design some apartment blocks in Shreveport, so he was renting here until it's finished. We got in a heated debate about baseball, which as usual with me lasted almost an hour!

Then he asked me about what I did, I told him I was in the navy and that I was on break (but obviously not that it was on medical reasons because I have MDD probably made worse because I'm repressing my feelings for my homophobic roommate). I didn't mention Sookie. I asked him if he had a wife, a lopsided grin appeared on his face.

"I'm gay." He laughed, not joking. I'd dug myself in big time! I must've looked pretty embarrassed. "Don't worry about it. People ask me that all the time. I'm not bothered by it." He added.

"Sorry though." I answered.

"Don't worry about it. It's not a major part of who I am." He shrugged. He didn't fit the stereotype of a gay person, he was just a regular guy. It made me think about how many other were out there like him.

"Do you mind me asking, but how do you cope? You know with what people say." I asked, in admiration of him, in a few brief minutes he'd become almost like a role-model.

"My family and friends are fine with it. My old neighbours used to heckle me; faggot, ass-boy, you know the usual stuff. They just assumed that I must've been an effeminate promiscuous HIV positive cross dresser; I'm none of those by the way. I mean I haven't been in a relationship for two years."

"I'm still coming to terms with it, but I'm gay too." What the hell did I just say? I haven't fully admitted it to myself yet, yet alone anyone else. I was about to curse on top of my voice, but Russell spoke first; he had read the honesty in my voice.

"That's the first step, I remember myself, it seems such a terrifying thing to tell someone about yourself, but once you do you can throw off all the pressure you've felt having to hide it, and that's a great feeling."

"I'm worried what my friends are gonna think." I said, like he was some kind of an agony uncle.

"They'll be fine with it if they actually are your friends. You're still the same person. And remember we're still just as much men as any heterosexual man."

His words seemed to change my inner turmoil from a kaleidoscope into a microscope, blurring became defined. I was still a long way from a pillar of mental health, but at least now the "You like men you freak of nature!" attitude had been kicked out of my head, he was better than any shrink I'd had.

We had another few beers, talking more about what made us this way, Russell told me that scientific studies now say homosexuality is identical in chemical and neurological developments to heterosexuality, no faulty gene or mutation, so it's like being left handed or right handed, no right or wrong way.

We then moved on to talk about our favourite movies; we both chose "Jaws" and "Pulp Fiction" in our top five favourite films, but disagreed over "The Shining"; personally I love it (however morbid that sounds).

The bar was getting empty at around midnight, so we left then, we'd both made the mistake of forgetting that we brought our cars, because now we were way over the limit to drive. It would've cost us a ridiculous amount of money for separate taxis, so we shared, we went to Russell's house because it was closer, he told me I could sleep there and then he'd drive me to get my car in the morning.

He was renting a two bedroom detached house in a nice suburb. The interior was the essence of modern style, everything shining and probably worth a bit, the well deserved fruits of his hard work. He showed me the guest bedroom, nice if overly neutral.

"You need anything?" He asked, pretty sure what I needed.

"I don't think I'm going to stay in there tonight." I said firmly.

"If you feel ok about it, I am." Gentleness filled his voice.

"I am." I replied. I unbuttoned my shirt clumsily, followed by my jeans; he did the same.

* * *

><p>I awoke in Russell's bed, he snored next to me, chest rising and falling gently, his arm still around me. I checked the time on his bedside clock: 7am. I grunted, my body still overwhelmed by the wonderful acts it experienced a few hours ago. I had nowhere to be, so I went back to sleep. I'd felt some unknown assurance from this whole experience. With Sookie or my previous girlfriends sex had always left me feeling uneasy, as if I had been walking up a "down" escalator. With Russell, I'd found comfort from the similarities we shared, the mirroring of our bodies. It was like we understood each other more than any woman could, we knew how we'd felt compressing our romantic yearnings inside ourselves until they'd burst out, and bullying ourselves into being what we weren't. There was tenderness there, which I hadn't experienced before.<p>

I woke up again at 8am. Russell was gone. I slid out of bed, took my clothes off the floor and dressed. I walked downstairs, to my surprise Russell was in the kitchen; dressed in a casual suit.

"Work?" I asked.

"As soon breakfast is over." He said, eating Cheerios. "I'll give you a lift back to your car on the way." He offered me breakfast; I had some fruit and a bagel.

"Wanna meet up again some time?" I asked, hoping this wouldn't be a one night thing.

"Sounds awesome, ring me up so we can arrange it." He passed me his business card as we entered his car; an Audi convertible, did that make him a sugar daddy? I searched the car for any evidence that he wasn't single, none.

He dropped me off at my car; I thanked him as he drove off. I drove back to my apartment, my apartment, no one else's. I was alone, not that I minded, I like being alone because I don't have to pretend I'm happy, I can just be as depressed as I want. The first thing I did was go and brush my teeth, very vigorously to make up that I didn't brush last night. I checked myself in the mirror for the first time this morning; hair was all over the shop, but my skin was awash with more colour than usual.

I went back to bed for a few hours seeing as I didn't get much sleep last night; and amazingly I was able to get to sleep, my insomnia must've been put on hold. When I got back up, I realised that I had nothing to do. I searched the bookshelves for any of my favourites I could re-read to stop my mind from thinking of anything else. I remembered the long conversations Eric and I had about books.

Eric. Fuck. I'd forgotten about him; the excitement of Sookie leaving me and the thrill of meeting Russell had distracted me. Instantly I became pissed. Beyond that, distraught. I gritted my teeth together, my whole body roaring with anger, which I took out on a wooden cabinet. I punched it until I lost count, until red liquid oozed from the crumbled wood. I bit my tongue to ignore the pain that ruptured up my fist. I burst into tears. I wasn't sorry that I'd slept with Russell; it was just that the flames that engulfed me weren't from the same spark which had ignited them.

I liked Russell. I didn't want to stop seeing him. And yet I felt like I was cheating on Eric. Eric clearly wasn't interested in me, so why was I bothered? A starved rodent gnawed at my insides. I stopped crying once I'd lost the energy to do so. I sank onto my couch, unable to move. I wished I could start a proper relationship. Russell, surely he could pull some strings and get me another job, I could quit the navy and forget about Eric. But with every extra mile away I got from Eric, another thread of my sanity unstitched.

* * *

><p>The next 4 months I kept my life from becoming aimless, Mainly because I was seeing Russell. We did everything together; we would go out for dinner, or go to the baseball, or the movies, or out shopping, or drinking. We even cooked for each other sometimes! And even if we did nothing, we did it together.<p>

Tonight we'd gone to see that new action movie with Matt Damon and Angelina Jolie. It was good, but we both agreed we'd seen better. Now we were sitting in my living room with takeout pizza.

It's funny, at no point did we ever say "Let's started dating"; we just started hanging out, and took things from there. We were up each other's place almost every night, so we were basically living together.

We didn't like to parade our relationship around, because I was still in the closet and because we both agreed it was just plain pathetic to do so.

It amused me whenever we went out together people always assumed we were either best buddies or brothers, since like many gay men, we didn't fit the stereotypes. Even funnier was when women actually flirted with us- depending where we were we either shrugged them off saying that we had girlfriends, or bluntly but eloquently said something along the lines of; "You're seem nice and you're a pretty girl. But that's the problem. You're a girl." The girls in question would always be taken back with surprise, then regain their composure and leave us. The ones that amused me the most were the ones who said "Such a waste." Because it wasn't.

I admit that it took me a while to tell him I loved him, and even longer to admit to myself that I didn't know if I did or not. In some respects our relationship was convenience; he was a good friend and kept me company when I'd otherwise be alone. Not to mention it's the only time I've ever enjoyed having sex!

Much to the contrary to what my parents said, gay sex was not a vile and depraved act; at least it wasn't with Russell, it was actually gentle and loving. And it felt good too.

Another thing that my parents told me which I found out was false, was that all gays were promiscuous. Russell and I were happily monogamous-Russell hadn't even had sex for three years, before he met me.

In lots of ways I sensed something more between us; he loved me, I loved him; perhaps not in the conventional romantic sense of the word, but in the more fraternal way, almost like some father figure, on second thought that sounds pretty messed up, more like a person I should strive to be like. Besides, he was just such a nice guy who I seemed to always have a good time with. I felt safe with him.

"What time you leaving?" He asked.

"Tomorrow afternoon." I replied, throat parched. The time had finally come to return to the navy.

"You gonna keep in touch?"

"Don't think like that now." I said, wrapping my arms around him, parting my lips and moving them towards his. He shrugged me off.

"I'm not stupid." Russell said, looking hurt. He'd realised anytime a difficult question about our relationship arose, I'd used sex as a distraction so I didn't have to answer. "Answer me, honestly, are we going to stay together."

My silence said it all for him. His rounded lips drooped downwards as if he had Bell's Palsy.

"I don't know." I replied.

"Do you want to?" I couldn't answer him. "Do you?" He repeated.

"I don't know."

"Stop saying that!" He shouted, more upset than angry. "You don't give a damn."

"I do, it's just difficult." I stammered.

"What's so difficult about loving someone?"

Silence again. He stood up and went to storm out, I blocked the door. He sighed, and went to sit back down.

"I didn't want to tell you this. But I've got MDD. It's just not going to work out right." I said, gulping between almost every word, each time my throat tightening a little more. "I'm not a good person to get involved with." I'd say that again. Russell signalled me, as if to ask why not. "Because I think I love someone else." Tears dripped down Russell's cheeks.

"I knew it." He rubbed his eyes. "Something told me this wasn't going to work, however much I wanted it to." Russell's choice of words started me off with the tears. I'd felt exactly the same about Eric, I'd just shoved my issues onto some warm hearted gentle civilian. I was disgusted with myself; I couldn't make him suffer because of me. I placed his hand in mine.

"Listen Russell. I love you, I haven't known you that long, but it's like I've always known you. You're a soul mate, but I can't love you as much as you deserve to be loved. Please move on when I'm gone, you deserve someone much better than me." He was logical enough to understand me, however much he didn't want to.

"Ok. But can we have one last time." His voice drained of any happiness. I knew our motto for tonight was gonna be fuck until the pain goes away.

"Of course." I replied, knowing that my chance of happiness was over.

A few hours later we lay awake in bed. The air sticky and soundless, apart from the heartbeat I felt as I rested my head against Russell's hairy chest. The atmosphere between us is euphoric and yet mournful; bittersweet. The electricity that emerged earlier as our skin touched died down into a pathetic fizzle, and yet it refused to die completely. The wild, ecstasy filled groans, which burst out of our lungs in moments of complete surrender was the last we'd spoken.

The sodium burning slither of a street lamp intruded on the darkness which we clung to, neither of us could bear to look the other in the eye. Some moments I'd sob quietly, before remembering that I'd be seeing Eric tomorrow, then starting again once I'd realised what I'd done to Russell.

"Just want you to know I'm not mad at you." Russell said; he must've felt my teardrops.

"You should be. I am." I answered.

"If you don't move on you'll just sink." That was the one thing I seemed incapable of doing, and I was drowning because of it, my head floating above the water, but my limbs flailing and failing below it.

This was the final time we'd ever lie together, welded together with passion that decayed into cancer, every breath we took we became another step closer to separation. My heart stung, not in the same intensity as it had over Eric, but a guilty prod that became a punch. I fidgeted, trying to get comfortable, which was difficult seeing I was sleeping with a soon to be former boyfriend, my first at that.

As usual Russell fell asleep first; he could sleep through a nuclear holocaust. I could feel his sleeping body tense and relax with every precious breath. As usual he snored, but actually I'd quite liked it, it'd added to my belief that I was actually sleeping with a soft, fuzzy teddy bear.

I eventually dropped off around 2am, and awoke every hour. At 11am I finally got up.

"You leaving?" I jumped, I hadn't realised Russell was awake; fully clothed and lying on top of the covers.

"I have to, otherwise I'll be late." I said, slipping into my naval uniform for the first time in I don't remember; all those months ago I'd thrown it off like an unwanted skin, now I put it back on like armour, encasing me away from the heartache which I'd suffered or caused. Who gives a shit, it's the same for everyone, everyone fucks up everyone else's chances of being happy because someone else fucked up their chance, it's like dominoes. "When you got to be in work?"

"Day off." He continued to lie in bed.

"What you gonna do?" I asked.

"Nothing, I'll leave sometime." I knew he planned to stay until the last of my scent was vanished.

"I'll leave you the keys, post them back through when you've locked up."

It was a pathetic farewell, we were doing the whole let's pretend we don't care because we're men and we can't have emotions! I felt sick again, this was how my parents told me a man should behave. Some progress I'd made, as soon as Russell goes I'll be back to square one, but if I keep up with him I'll be back to square zero. I bit my lip, tears dancing beneath my sockets.

I had it. I couldn't stand here and wave him off in the ruins of our tiny, impossible paradise. I went over to him.

"Promise me you'll find someone else. A man to love you like I wanted to. Promise me you're strong enough to break this cycle of heart-broken lovers which I couldn't." I said, crying.

"I will. Tell me you won't do anything stupid." Russell got up and hugged me; I buried my head in his shoulders.

"I promise." I replied, I let go of him and made my way to the door, he followed me.

"You were like a mockingbird in a cage. So perfect and beautiful. But it's cruel to keep a bird in captivity." Russell said; he'd loved his metaphors. "Just remember I loved you."

"Good luck." I said as I left out the door with my holdall. The last time I'd ever see Russell.

I had a bus to catch to the docks where the ship was waiting. Before I reached the bus stop, I put on my sunglasses, to hide the tears which refused to go. Everyone here seemed happy, it made me sick. If they walked a mile in my shoes they'd know it. My heart wasn't misplaced anymore, it was lost at sea, and sinking to new depths. I sat waiting for the bus, shivering although it was warm, forcing my frown into neutrality. I had to get over Russell, and there was only one way I knew I could. Think of Eric; his eyes, skin, smile, laugh, warmth, muscle, stubble. It worked.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Apologies to anyone who was expecting to see a bit of Sookie; but I just couldn't think of any organic way to give her a major part, and I didn't want to slaughter her because I'm a huge Sookie fan.<strong>


	5. Acts

_"Nothing on earth can make up for the loss of one who has loved you."- Selma Lagerlof_

* * *

><p>I sat on that uncomfortable single bed in L-G34, and yet I was actually glad to be back. I checked my hand of cards, 3 aces and the 3, 4, 5, 6 of hearts. I won! I played that hand. Eric sighed in disappointment; he sucked at cards.<p>

"So what'd you do on break?" I asked.

"Got drunk. Went to some concerts. Bought some Michel Foucault, he's a faggot I know, but his work is fascinating. "Madness and Civilisation" in particular has..." Eric said.

I stopped paying attention when he blabbed about philosophical shit. He was a major hypocrite, hates gays and yet he'll happily read a book by one. Eventually he stopped. "And I forgot, I eat my own weight in junk food. I had my fill of cheese fries until next break."

"Like you eat cheese fries." I joked, poking his abs through his T-shirt, I'd forgotten that it was Eric and not Russell.

"Don't do that!" Eric jumped.

"Sorry. It was a joke."

"Forget it." Eric said. First time he'd let it go so easily. "And I do eat cheese fries. Too many." He tapped his non-existent belly. "You could do with some cheese fries down you." I'd lost 24 pounds, and everyone knew it; my cheekbones protruded like some alien and my arms were skin wrapped around bone. The colour I'd gained had whitewashed away, which contributed even more to the image that I was ill.

"I've been off food." I used that excuse to everyone who brought it up.

"I'll force it down you if that's what it takes." Eric replied.

He could force it down me alright! Forget it Bill, as if that's gonna happen.

We played two more games of cards; I won both. I'd put on a poker face my whole life, Eric obviously hadn't because I could read him like a book.

"You miss me when I was gone?" I asked.

"Of course. I'm a boarding school kid, if I'm in a room by myself for more than five minutes I get lonely." He started speaking quite warmly, then obviously realised and changed it into a joke. Eric hadn't changed, even worse was that my shameful addiction to him had remained.

I was in bed by 8pm, I was physically, mentally and emotionally drained from earlier today with Russell. Fortunately Eric only read some more of that Michel Foucault book before getting turning the lights off and getting to bed, I can barely sleep anyway, let alone with the lights on. I buried myself in the sheets, hoping that a lack of oxygen would send me to sleep or kill me, but no dice. I couldn't even rely on the gentle lull of Russell's snoring anymore to help me drift off, Eric breathed shallow and silently. I could feel myself regressing, all the religious guilt I'd ignored when I'd had Russell had re-emerged. Shots of pain in my chest punished me any time I thought of Eric.

My Mom would disown me if she saw me now, perhaps even try and get me committed to a mental hospital, my grandparents would be turning in their graves at the shame of having a faggot as a grandchild.

I most terrified at what my Dad would think; he'd probably bludgeon me to death. He used to beat me with a belt until my bruises had bruises if I committed a minor sin like eating before saying grace or forgetting the words to a section of Genesis which he demanded me to recite. I told some of my teachers this, they all gave me detention for lying, no minister ever beat his child, that's what they thought. The thing that hurt even more for me was that Mom just used to watch him hit me, and if I ever begged her to help me she'd just start reciting the Lord's Prayer.

All the bruises he'd given me had vanished, but I knew they were still there; deep purple islands on my flesh, they stung with every movement I made, and I swore some still hurt if I poked them.

* * *

><p>Sunday afternoon was a great time for Eric and I. Most of us on board ship have the time off; most go to worship God and read the bible, as if we'd do that!<p>

We lay on a tiny extended bit of the top platform, sunning ourselves. Eric had already got himself a lovely golden aura; I was still a milky grey. I demolished my way through the New York Times crosswords book, Eric was busy milling through books in which I had no interest whatsoever.

We were both wearing our uniforms, but with alterations to better withstand the heat, I unbuttoned the top three buttons and rolled up my sleeves of my shirt, Eric took his off completely! I was lucky I brought sunglasses, so even if my willpower failed and I stared at his torso he wouldn't know that I was.

Every inch of his body rippled strength; it made me sick that it was always the thing I noticed about him.

"Do you think we need sun lotion?" Eric asked.

"I'm eternally pale, so it doesn't make a difference. What about you?"

"I'm Swedish, there's barely any sun there, so I do need it." I didn't understand why Eric asked me if he knew the answer already.

Eric got out the sun lotion. Shit! What if he asked me to put it on him? That would be awkward. Thank God he rubbed it in himself; I closed my eyes to force myself to avoid looking at him as he did it.

When he finished he lay down, arms behind his back and stared up at the sky, his blue eyes glistening in the sunlight. I lay next to him; the guilt was currently second to the overpowering need to be near him. Amazingly, Eric remained unfazed.

"You coping fine about losing Sookie?" Eric asked, I'd told him earlier. This prickle of his warmth travelled around my body, liquefying every muscle.

"Not really, I just gotta keep myself busy so I can't think of her. I'd hoped she was the one though, so I feel lost." I replied; I was talking about Russell.

"There's someone out there for everyone. You'll find them." Eric tapped my shoulder, the most intimate contact he gave me; he must've felt sorry for me.

"I guess so." I replied, praying that when I did find them it would be a woman. That made me realise I'd never broached the subject of religion with him. "You religious?" I asked, now seemed like an ok time to do so.

"I kinda believe in a supreme being. But I don't believe in wasting our time worshiping it. Organised religion is stupid. I know, I went to a Catholic school."

"No wonder why you hate gays then, holy men liking the holy boy and all." I joked. Eric sprung into a sitting position like one of those pop-out monsters in a haunted house.

"Don't even joke about that sick shit. It's not funny." Eric said; loud and quick, his face wretched with disgust.

"I guess it was a little distasteful."

"It's more than a little, especially coming from the one who wants us all to hug faggots." Eric spoke of me in utter contempt, it really hurt.

"I'm sorry, really." I said, my voice faltering its tone. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Don't say it to me, say it to all the people it does happen to." Eric said, more neutral.

That disaster stained our friendship with even more awkwardness for a day or so. Then we were back to friends, which I realised was something I didn't want to happen. The times Eric was angry with me, were the only times I didn't feel in love with him.

* * *

><p>As the months passed I was falling even more hopelessly in love with him, but my self-loathing increased in direct proportion. My body was alien to me; I didn't look at myself in the mirror, too terrified at what I might see back.<p>

I found myself dreaming more vividly and blankly than ever before; of falling into a black abyss, the air so dense it sunk my lungs into my bowels, my arms flailing hopelessly like broken wings. I always woke before I hit the ground; sweat pouring from every pore of my body and my eyes damp with fright, I'd touch my chest, feeling the rapid drumming of my heart, then sigh with disappointment. Sometimes I woke Eric, he'd ask what was wrong, and I'd say it was nothing and he'd get back to sleep and I'd watch, exploring his sleeping silhouette with my eyes because I couldn't do anything else.

At a push I'd eat two whole meals a day, but usually I'd just eat one and have nothing else. My stomach had stapled itself together, I constantly felt sick at the thought of eating. Eric cottoned on to this, and started getting me meal-replacement drinks; I'd have to pour the bland gunk down the toilet any time I was alone.

But besides all of this, I was able to internalise most of my turmoil, and carry on the facade that I was just fine. Pam and Sam, two of the only three people who cared about me onboard were oblivious to my suffering. The third, Eric, was quietly concerned about me; I could tell. I hated him for it; it made him almost irresistible to me.

The God I didn't believe in talked to me more and more, and I was finding it harder and harder to ignore it. He called me a failure. Freak. Queer. Bender. Faggot abomination disgrace outcast thing monster devil spawn; it all rolled into one. He'd shout it into my head, torturing me into submission.

All of this shit contributed to my unravelling mental state. The threads of my sanity were almost torn beyond recognition, but I wasn't going to give up without a fight.

* * *

><p>I was huddled up on my bed. I'd told Eric I had a headache, but the reality was that I'd sunk to an all time low. The wind bustled even though the sun had set; I stared blankly out the window, the gaping blackness ignored me; the sky stripped of stars.<p>

I'd been staying in contact with Russell through sporadic letters, more out of guilt than choice, and then he told me. He'd taken my advice and was seeing someone else; he said he thanked me and overused words like "true happiness", "settling down" and "the one". His well intentioned words made me despise him. I knew it was unreasonable, I begged him to move on and be happy, and I now reviled him for listening to me. He always was my fall-back, the splints on my thinning wings.

"You ok?" Eric asked. He didn't need a Degree to realise I wasn't.

"I'm fine." I couldn't look at him.

"Listen to me Bill. You still need help."

"Pam told me I was fine!" I countered.

"She doesn't know you like I do. She doesn't see you like this." If he was that concerned why didn't he tell her?

"Leave me alone."

"Tell me what's wrong." Eric moved closer to me, I pushed him away. "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"You're the problem!" I shouted off the cusp. Eric looked a cross between startled, hurt and pissed off.

"Why?" He asked. Here it goes. I had to say it, screw the consequences, I didn't care if I got kicked out, in fact I hope I did.

"I'm gay." I said. He whispered expletive after expletive under his breath. "I fucking love you. You understand me now?"

"Of course I don't." Eric snarled, looking at me with disgust. "You slept in the same room as me all this time. You lying creep." He punched the wall like a maniac, better than my nose I guess. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to tell him, it sure didn't make me feel any better, I'd taken off the heavy armour, but now I was naked.

"Pretend you don't like faggots when you're the biggest stark raving queer there is." Eric spoke quietly, with malice.

"You're the hypocrite! One minute you're all bro-mancing and putting your arm around me, the next minute you're stropping and shoving me away. Make up your mind." I whispered back. We didn't want anyone next door getting suspicious, so here we were having a whisper argument.

"I don't let ass-boys boss me around. So get the fuck home." Anger had bubbled over both of us, a deluge of redness shot through Eric's face, veins protruded from his neck. I growled; my chest like a chainsaw. Eric shoved me. I shoved him back.

"I will. I can't stand being around you anymore. Just explain to me; why the hell for someone so liberal are you such a bigot when people like me are concerned?" I stared into his eyes, for the first time not in admiration, but loathing.

"Do I need a reason? You the one who has issues."

"Then you must have some real issues." I rolled my eyes, trying to regard him in contempt, however scared of him I was.

"I bet you'd have 'real issues' if you got your ass kicked and fucked every night for years wouldn't you!" He spurted. I was about to scream liar, then I realised his anger had dissolved; his face was strained with misery, his bottom jaw quavering.

My stomach compressed with more guilt. All the times he'd got funny when I'd touched him, and when I'd mentioned gays, and when I made that joke about Catholic schools; he actually had a reason for this disdain.

"I'm... sorry." I stammered.

"You couldn't do anything. No one did anything. No one." Eric slumped onto his bed, placing his head in his hands, I slowly edged towards him. I heard him sob; deep and completely helplessly. His broad shoulders bounced up and down.

I was desperate to hug him, not because of my own sexual perversions, but to comfort him. But he was phobic of contact with another man, understandably so with this new context. I was halfway to crying myself, I couldn't bear to see him like this, and it was my fault. I gulped, demanding that I stay strong.

I picked his coffee mug off the table and offered it to him, he accepted, trying to force a smile behind his tears, he couldn't. I loomed over him, hoping that it might comfort him, but I doubted it would. I had to drown out all of my senses and just wait until he subsided, I walked towards the door.

"Don't leave me." Eric pleaded. Even after all the stuff he'd just said to me I was a sucker and stayed. "Sit here." Eric pointed to the space next to him on his bed.

"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Sorry." I said.

"Stop apologising." he said. "You know I haven't told anyone else this, ever."

"I haven't told anyone what I told you either." Obviously I'd told Russell, but I was lying to make him feel better.

"You mind me asking, when did you realise you were... you know."

I explained Eric my story; my aggressively homophobic parents, my forced relationships with women when I prayed I was straight, all the religious guilt I'd felt and the secret yearnings for him. I didn't mention Russell; out of respect and his lack of significance to the bigger picture.

"I know I was hostile, but I don't care what you are really. Now I don't anyway."

"You don't have to... but what happened to you those years?" I said, channelling all of my energy into being tactful and gentle. Eric gulped, and continued to do so as he spoke.

"When I was thirteen I had a new roommate called Appius Ocella; only fourteen, but looked a hell of a lot older, acted it too. He was the only child of Greek shipping billionaires; so he always got his own way." He stopped for a moment, I looked at his face and realised how scarred he was. "He was nice for about a week. Then he changed... He used to... force me into stuff... I tried to fight back, but he was stronger than me. And he threatened to kill me if I told anyone..." He rubbed a tear away with his forearm.

"You can stop if you want." My blood sizzled. Because of bastards like Appius people like me had a bad name.

"No... I got to get it out now." Eric said, I could hear the shaking in his voice. "The worse thing was that however much I tried to hide from him, I knew that as soon as the door was shut at ten o'clock it didn't matter because I was alone and trapped with him." He continued, rubbing more tears away. "I won't go into detail about what he did. Trust me, you wouldn't want to know."

"Were your parents suspicious?"

"No... I used to beg and cry to them through summer break about not wanting to go back to school and still they made me go back."A miserable bitterness clung to his words. "I even told them about Appius and they just thought I was lying. And I can't forgive them for that."

"When did it end?"

"When I was seventeen; he graduated. By then my grades had suffered so badly because my life revolved around trying hopelessly to not get raped again, that they were unsalvageable. Why do you think I couldn't get to college?" He said the R word; the atmosphere became even more solemn.

"So you haven't had any counselling?" I asked. "There are support groups for victims of sexual abuse." Eric laughed, not as if it was at something funny, but more at the sheer hopelessness of what I said.

"No. And I know there is, but if you haven't noticed they're all full of teenage girls. Do you think they're going to take a 220 pound 6'4" Naval Engineer seriously?"

"You can't let Appius win." I said, trying to make him strong.

"He already has Bill. I was young, vulnerable and terrified of him, and he didn't give a shit. And it's crazy because I still feel like it was my fault. Worst of all it's fucked up all of my relationships because I can't trust anyone" He burst out crying again; again it was beyond painful to watch.

"Well what are you gonna do?" I asked, once he'd settled down enough to speak.

"There's nothing I can do. I just gotta forget about it and move on." Eric replied.

"It doesn't work, believe me I've tried. It just weighs you down until your bones break." I said. Eric slumped back on his bed, and shoved the covers on top of him, not bothering to undress.

"I need to apologise for all I've said to you. I don't have a problem with you Bill, you're a good friend. It's just that after all he did, I hated gays, and hated myself even more because I believed that I must have been gay myself."

"Apology accepted. We can talk again about this. Get some rest. You need it."

"Please don't tell anyone this. I won't tell anyone about you I swear." Eric pleaded, stigma rooted deep inside him. His eyes struggled to stay open, revealing his secret had engulfed every ounce of life inside him, every word more of a burden than the last. He closed his eyes, and lay frozen.

"Of course I won't." I said, climbing off his bed. "Our secrets." I tried to get up off his bed, but instead I was drawn towards him. Before I realised it I'd placed my parted lips over his, an almost acidic sting of warmth travelled from my lips down my throat, I was too overcome to realise that Eric was almost motionless, trembling feebly. After I'd lost myself I shoved myself away from him.

I was wrong to do that, I realised that as soon as our lips separated. A sickness coursed through me, my stomach swirling like a washing machine, my teeth chattered almost like a tune. I'd exploited Eric at his weakest. Was I any better than Appius? But he didn't pull away. Then again he probably was too worn out to realise what had happened, that made it worse.

I took one of the playing cards and wrote "It was an accident, I'm sorry." on it.

"What the..." Eric murmured, half asleep.

"It was a mistake. Please believe me." I cried. "An accident." I sprinted out, slamming the door behind me. Eric didn't chase me, he probably fell back to sleep.

I ran out onto deck. Darkness swamped everything; it was a labour to see a few feet in front of me. No one else was out on this part of deck at this time, so I yelled to the sky, if there is such a God I couldn't expect him to help me this late.

I slumped against the wall and cried. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that everything was going to work out fine. I'd fucked up my chances with Russell, the only person I've ever met who's truly loved me just because I was looking for fire, and now I was burnt, no, charred beyond recognition. All the world's plastic surgeons couldn't fix me up.

So Eric wasn't as homophobic as I'd thought, he actually had a decent reason. But that didn't mean he was going to get with me. The closest I'd ever got to that was making out with him when he was so traumatised by explaining that he'd been sexually abused to me that he was almost comatose; and if I've got to do that it can't be the sign of a healthy relationship to be.

No one could rescue me from this predicament. I couldn't go back to my parents; they'd slam the door in my face and Sookie was too busy sleeping with the mailman, or was it the milkman, I forgot. I couldn't go back to Russell, that would just screw up his chance of a happy, normal existence. And I severely doubted that God would want me in his family, he sent freaks like me down below to burn until the end of time.

I almost knew from the day one it was going to end this way, so I might as well make it quick. I had to go. I walked towards the edge of the boat, climbed onto the railings, and stared down into the black beckoning depths; I greeted them like an old friend. I closed my eyes; I didn't see how those Olympic divers could do it, until now.

Cold like I'd never felt before embraced me as I sunk down into watery arms. My body joined my heart in total numbness. I thought of Eric, my instinct to survive kicked in; I flapped my arms like a falling bird. Logic countered instinct. I stopped resisting the courting of the waves, and anticipated my lungs swelling up with water.

The last words Russell said to me finally made sense. It was cruel to keep a bird in captivity; especially if its wings are crippled beyond repair.

My body gave in, just as my heart had months ago, and now I was offering the husk of me that remained to the very ocean that ate it up.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: So that's it. The end!<strong>

**So what do you think of the ending? I know that it was the ending that no one (me included) wanted, but it seemed to be the ending that was needed, if that makes sense.**

**I started this story as a challenge to improve my writing by stepping WAY out of my comfort zone, I think it's definitely given me more confidence if nothing else. ****I also found that throughout this story, I slowly morphed from a casual follower into a full blown active supporter of equal rights and anti-hatred. So I guess that's something else positive that came out of the story.**

**Thanks to Charlaine Harris to writing such great characters. And thank you to all the people who alerted, favourited and reviewed this story- I really appreciate your support and love to know what you guys think of it.**

**And special thanks to my brilliant Beta-Reader BathshebaRocks for all her suggestions, assistance and time, I couldn't have done it without you.**

**Shameful self plug alert: I'm starting preparations on my next story in a few weeks; it's going to be a more traditional Sookie centered love story, with a lot of drama and some occasional peril thrown in; but still with a few surprises; so look out for that. Until then check out my other story "The Other Sibling", which is an ongoing first person story from everyone's favourite brother Jason Stackhouse, and the bad luck that he just can't escape- it has a lot of appearances from other characters i.e. Pam, Sam, Bill, Claude. Shameful self plug over.**

**This story is dedicated to; all the armed forces all over the world, who risk their lives, and in the process sometimes sadly lose them, to protect us; may you remain safe. To all those who've suffered sexual abuse, male or female, remember you are not alone, may you find strength and healing in those you love. ****And lastly, but by no means least; to all those who've fought tooth and nail to receive the same rights which many of us take for granted, for themselves and our future generations.**

**Overall I'd like to thank all you guys. Stay safe, I hope you enjoyed taking a look behind the mask.**


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